The Monsters Next Door
by MelodyPond123
Summary: A pair of strangers-the Winchesters- Monroe saw at the supermarket show up, ready to fight at his front door. When he Wogues to fight, things only get uglier.
1. Chapter 1

Monroe sighed as his phone vibrated, drawing him from his selection of zucchini.

"Hey, sorry I won't be home in time for supper. I have to drop by Nina's since Joey still isn't feeling well." The text was from Rosalee.

He startled at a loud noise, looking up and around from the phone for its source.

An old woman's cart had hit the end cap of the next aisle, cans clattering everywhere.

Onlookers, who'd turned to see what the commotion was, went back to what they were doing.

Among them, were two guys, with a cart stacked with beer, frozen pie slices, a package of baloney and some funyuns were having a discussion in low voices beside the apples. They looked up surreptitiously, several times, toward the zucchini. Arguing? Maybe they're were having relationship problems. Going by the looks of their cart, they certainly weren't talking about the merit of different varieties of apples. Definitely not the fruit and veggies types. Besides, why else would two guys be getting groceries together?

Definitely a couple, he decided, as he carried on toward the locally grown section.

…..

He heard a car pull up. The smell of gas and fumes like from an old car, a stench his neighbors' newer efficient models didn't suffer so much. But there was another smell, the vague lingering dash of beer, the stench of fries and burgers that lingered in peoples' pores, like they'd been soaking their insides in bad diner food for years, on top of the normal smells of sweat and human. And…that other smell…the volatile hint of something aggressive—

Something was scratching in the door, rasping inside the tumblers—

No, someone was picking the lock! He leapt back from the work table, adrenaline pumping. He raced across the house out into the living room to the door—no, too late. It was swinging open.

Two guys appeared in the open door, the shorter one in front, for a split second, a look of confusion crossed his face, as he muttered irately to the tall fellow behind him. "I thought you said he wasn't home!"

Who the hell are you, he wondered, stepping toward them from the shadow that draped the living room, agitation growing. Robbers? Why did they look familiar? He could feel a Wogue coming on, but fought it. Some stupid druggies trying to rob a house didn't deserve to get their faces ripped off, which was what would happen if he let loose like the time he protected Nick's Aunt….

""Hey, this doesn't have to be ugly. You really don't want to fight me—"

He stopped as a spray of water hit him in the face from the intruders' direction. He growled as he flicked water from his eyes, which he could tell were changing. The two looked somewhat startled, yet expectant, like they'd anticipated something more.

"Let's get this straight, you red eyed freak. We don't care if you're a heavy hitter. We've dealt with bigger! How about Abbadon, heard of her?" the shorter guy retorted, brandishing a long silver blade.

Oh, shit. It hit him with all the force of a runaway freight train. "Wait, you can see me—are you—"

"I don't know exactly what you're playing at, but you can do it the easy way or the hard way. Either way, you're coming with us," the tall one said.

"I'm not playing at anything! Get OUT!" Monroe lunged forwards at them, feeling himself shift into a fuller Wogue. They scrambled backwards into the yard, throwing a knife in his direction. He ducked as it rushed past him.

The shorter guy was at him now, trying to stab him. He blocked a blow to the face by grabbing the arm at the wrist. The guy howled, something popping up the arm, as Monroe jerked forcefully to the side, throwing him to the ground. The other man jabbed a dagger at him, which landed a slice to his hip. He recoiled, rolling to the side as the man unsheathed a larger blade from his belt, rearing back, about to stab him when a lateral impact sent him sprawling under a smaller, fox-like Wessen form. Rosalee… 


	2. Chapter 2

Monroe turned to deal with the shorter man, who was in the process of drawing a sword with his uninjured hand.

Monroe pushed him backwards, sending him back to the dirt, and pinned him there, pressing the man's own sword against his neck with one hand, pinning his good arm with the other. He pressed his weight down on the guy's legs so he couldn't move. He could hear the man under him gasping, wriggling, struggling. He pressed the flat of the blade harder against his neck.

He glanced up to see Rosalee send the other guy reeling with a kick to the ribs. He regained his balance, and took a swing a her, but she dogged it agilely, landing a blow to his temple. He crumpled to the ground. She crouched beside him, pressing her fingers to his neck. She snarled as she came out of Wogue.

"What the hell is she doing to my brother?" The guy under him choked out.

"Making sure he's still breathing," Rosalee replied, standing. "Not that you'd have done the same for us."

"Damn straight," He replied, trying to wriggle from under Monroe.

"Just stop it," Monroe admonished. "You're staying right here."

"You OK?" he asked her.

"Fine. Are you?"

"He got me on the side."

"Let me see, how bad is it?"

"I think I'll live. We've got to do something with these guys, though. And get this, they can see us. I think they're Grimm."

"This one's out cold. I've got something perfect for the other in the car, though. Just hold him for a minute!"

She ran to her car, footsteps pounding in the still air.

"What are you gonna do with us, huh, you fugly sons of bitches?" the man he held rasped.

"A lot less than you deserve," he muttered back.

Yeah, a whole lot less.

He could have sworn he saw the guy flinch at his words.

"Got it," Rosalee replied. She was back, with a cloth pouch in her hand.

"Can you get his mouth open?"

The man scowled, as if to say, 'like hell you are'.

"Do what she says, or we'll do it the hard way."

The man's expression of anger and disgust deepened, his lips pressed together tightly, an unmistakable terror showing in his eyes.

"Fine," Rosalee shrugged and pinched his nose shut. Several seconds passed, with the man trying futilely to wriggle from under Monroe's hold, before his mouth opened, gasping for air, as Rosalee pressed the bag against it—

He inhaled a whoosh of pungent-smelling herbal powder, and coughed once, as his eyes rolled back in his head, his body going limp.

"That should keep him out long enough to tie him up," she said.

"I'll go get some rope or something. Make sure they stay put." she said as she offered him a hand up, which he took, wincing with pain.

Monroe limped over to the steps to the porch where he sat down, holding his wound with one hand. As the adrenaline wore off, the pain kicked in. He shifted out of Wogue, feeling blood trickle down his side from the open cut. It was worse than he'd thought.

Rosalee disappeared into the house, leaving him with the two subdued intruders. He slowed his breathing, building on the yoga he practiced regularly, and then started pressing in against the cut to try to stem off the bleeding. He gasped as he did so at the sharp stab of pain. "Oh, damn," he muttered, fighting to maintain control of his breathing pattern. He couldn't do full meditation since that would mean losing focus on the situation, but…deep breathing would at least help slow his heart rate, and also the bleeding.

Presently, Rosalee came through the front door, and down the steps where Monroe sat. She carried a roll of duck tape.

"Oh, you've got to let me look at that," she exclaimed

"No, we need to get them tied up first."

"Yeah. But you stay there, OK? Let me do this. You're already bleeding enough as it is."

He nodded.

She shifted into full Wogue, and with the aid of the increased strength, rolled the larger man over onto his stomach with ease, and lashed his wrists together behind his back with the duck tape.

She moved then to the smaller man, who she treated likewise.

"OK, now, I guess get them inside, yeah?" she asked.

Monroe nodded, getting to his feet. "Let me help."

"OK," she assented, her concern showing in her voice.

They carried both inside, Rosalee still in Wogue, carrying most of the weight. Monroe was now panting heavily.

He sat weakly in a chair beside the unconscious intruders ,who they had placed slumping against the couch.

"Hmm, they could get up and fight like that still," Monroe pointed out. "They're nasty tough. Really wanted to kill me."

"I'll fix that." She taped their ankles together, to the nearer leg of the coffee table that was in front of them. "Might not hold them for long, but better than nothing, yeah?

"Yeah," he groaned.

"Now, no more excuses, you're bleeding way too much. I need to fix you up."

She offered him her shoulder, helping him to the kitchen.


	3. Chapter 3

She turned on the light, and washed her hands, before returning to his side where he sat at the table.

She lifted his blood-soaked shirt from his wounds, wincing as he groaned.

"Sorry," she said.

"No, it's OK," he replied. "Just go ahead..."

"Well, it looks pretty deep. You really should go to the hospital."

"No, I need to we need to call Nick and Hank. We have to do something with these guys."

"Alright," Rosalee replied. "At least let me bandage you up so you won't bleed too much more. And you need to go lie down. I'll take care of calling them."

He nodded assent.

She hurried over to the closet, where she pulled out the first aid kit.

She opened it on the table, and pulled out gauze sponges, and a length of wrap bandage, which she opened.

"OK, this is going to hurt some," she warned him.

"Let's just get this over with," he replied, bracing himself.

She pressed the gauze into the cuts on his side, at which he winced, gasping, gripping the table.

"Sorry. Good news, that was the hard part. Now I just need to wrap it up good so it will stay in place."

"OK."

"Hold this for a second, she said," indicating the gauze that covered the injuries. She unwound a length of compression bandage wrap, and secured this around his torso. He winced again as she pulled it tight, but nodded for her to keep working.

She secured the ends with adhesive bandage tape, before shutting the case.

"I really wish you'd go ahead to the ER," she said.

"I know. But I'll be alright for a little while, yeah? Nothing major was hit?" He asked.

"Well, it doesn't look like it. You seem to be pretty stable, although it needs cleaning and you're going to need stitches."

"OK then. I'm going to wait until we decide what to do with these...whatever they are," he said, "then I'll get it taken care of. I promise." He squeezed her hand, which elicited a small smile from her.

"OK. But you should go lie down until Nick and Hank get here. I can make sure they don't cause any trouble in the meantime."

"Fair enough."

With that, Monroe moved to stand, groaning as she helped him up. They went into the bedroom, where he lay down.

"Thanks. Let me know when they get here. Or if you need any help." He said as he eased himself onto the bed.

"I'll be fine, you just rest, OK?" She replied.

"OK," he assented, as she turned to go back to the living room where they'd left the intruders.

She breathed a sigh of relief to see them still slumped against the couch, the same as they'd left them.

She reached for the phone, and dialed Nick's number, hands shaking.

It range twice before he picked up.

"Hey, Monroe, what's up?"

"Listen, we need your help—"

"Rosalee? What's going on?"

"Two men just attacked Monroe, in our front yard, with swords."

"What? Who are they?"

"I don't know, but I think they're Grimm. He's hurt, and they're knocked out right now, but breathing. Please come quickly. I don't know what else to do."

"Don't worry, we're on our way." he said before hanging up.

Rosalee sighed as she lowered the phone, glancing over her shoulder at the two men.

One was groaning, the big one with long hair, she realized.

What would she do if they woke up?

Anger stirring inside her, she retreated to sit at the base of the stairs, toward the edge of the room where they couldn't see her as well.

Some minutes passed, as she sat, silent, mind racing. Who were they? Grimm? What would they do?

She watched as the bigger of the two groaned and opened his eyes, wincing as he tried to move his arms and legs, his expression darkening as he realized what had happened.

"Oh, shit," he muttered.

He shoved the other man with his shoulder, who groaned, also struggling as he came to. "Sam?" he rasped.

"Yeah, Dean, I'm right here," the other returned.

"What the hell's going on?"

"I dunno, we were fighting that…whatever the hell he is…and…I'm guessing we lost." Sam replied.

"No shit." Dean returned. "So what the hell does he want with us?"

"Dunno. But remember, I told you we should have brought silver bullets," Sam muttered.

"Oh, you think?" Dean snapped.

"We aren't werewolves," she Rosalee burst out, standing and walking forward from where she'd been sitting watching the exchange on the stairs.


	4. Chapter 4

The two startled, struggling a bit, although feebly.

"So what's the deal? You just swear off eating human hearts or something, settle down as the monsters next door? Who's the red-eyed freak to you, anyways, huh?" Dean snarked.

"He's my fiancé! We're called Wessen. And unlike you, we are not monsters."

"It's our job to stop freaks like you. What are you going to do with us, anyways, get your friends together to have a feast?"

"Ugh, no!" She cringed. " He's reformed, and so am I. We don't do things like that."

"They all say that, don't they, Sam?"

"Yeah, well, y'know, some of them are telling the truth when they do." Sam suggested. "Like Benny? Or Garth?"

"There are others coming, though. You're not the only Grimm in town." Her voice took on a steely tone.

"Grimm, what, reapers? How do you know a Reaper?"

"No, we don't know any Reapers! Nobody in their right mind would want one anywhere near here. But then, what are you, if you aren't Grimm?"

"We hunt things like you, OK? And this is about the longest one of you guys has talked to us without being under interrogation."

"For people who aren't Grimm, you sound almost as bad as the Endezeichen." Her voice grew harsh.

"What are you talking about?"

"You really have no idea, do you?" She sighed.

She rolled her head to the side, making a guttural noise, Woguing momentarily. The two hunters lurched where they sat, struggling vigorously to get free.

"OK, yeah," she said, her voice distorting as she changed back.

"What?!" The two replied, at once, voices tinged with alarm, fear and anger.

"Like it or not, you're Grimm." She shifted back to human form as she spoke.

"What did that tell you?" Dean snarked.

"I can see it, in your eyes," she said.

"See what?" Sam asked, cautiously.

"This sort of darkness, the knowingness. And coldness."

"Yeah, well, it's not like monsters do a lot to deserve warm and fuzzy," Dean retorted.

Sam shot him a disgruntled look.

"Look, you can say what you want to, and think what you want to. The fact remains, we are not out to get you. Neither Monroe nor I would.

I'd think you were smart enough to know we could have done whatever we wanted with you while you were unconscious. But we didn't, wouldn't."

"OK, on the off chance your freakshow isn't about to go all Children of the Corn, what the hell are you gonna do with us?"

"I'm keeping you here until Nick and Hank arrive."

"Oh, your Reapers, huh?"

"Not Reapers, a Grimm and his partner. Nick's a Grimm like you."

"And what exactly will they do?"

"They're good people. I don't know, but I trust that they won't do anything you don't deserve. And if you stop trying to fight, calm down, and listen, you just might get off easier."


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks, for the reviews and follows, guys. Sorry it's been so long since I updated. I've been getting carried away with other fics and the daily demands of, yknow, life. lol

...

"Just don't try anything. I really don't want to hurt you," she said, shifting toward Wogue momentarily as she spoke, startling at a knock on the door.

She opened it, letting in two men, in.

"So," asked Nick, "What exactly's going on?"

"These men attacked Monroe in the front yard. We uh, stopped them," she explained.

"I can see that," Hank said "So, what's the deal with them, and what do you want to do with them?"

"Well, they seem to function a lot like the traditional Grimm, the decapitares," she replied.

"What, decapitaters?" Sam said.

"You speak Latin?" She asked, her voice revealing a hint of surprise. So not just yahoos who roamed the countryside killing indiscriminately—they were at least educated?

"Oh, I took some in college." Sam said nonchalantly.

"Yeah, and it's also pretty handy in exorcisms." Dean cut in.

"What for, like, demonic possession?" she asked.

"Yep."

"You called my fiancee a demon earlier. Does that mean you were trying to—"

"Exorcize him? Yeah."

"So you—you came here, broke into our house, to try to exorcize a Blutbad?" She half scoffed as she spoke.

"Yeah, pretty much," Dean shrugged.

"We had no idea, we really did think he was possessed," Sam offered.

"So then you tried to kill him." Nick was nonplussed.

"No, he attacked us and turned into the werewolf thing. Then we had to defend ourselves. I mean, have you ever been charged by a monster? It's not pretty!"

"They're not monsters, they're Wessen, and they're my friends," Nick corrected him.

"Yeah, well, excuse us for trying to save his ass from what looked like a demon, OK? Coz if he was and we let it go unchecked, you'd all be dead right now!" the older hunter snapped.

"What my brother's trying to say," Sam said, "Is we really didn't know. We thought he was going to hurt somebody. We really were just trying to help. It's kind of our job."

"Yeah, well, you still broke into our house," a voice cut in from the doorway to the other room.

"You! Just—stay back," Dean barked.

"Or what? You'll glare me to death?" Monroe replied.

"No, no, you really need to go lie back down," Rosalee said, rushing to his side as he limped across the room toward a chair.

"They did break in here, I would kind of like to know why."

"OK. Just—don't—don't get too worked up. You need to save your energy, to heal."

"I'll do my best not to."

"I know." she smiled.

"So you really do believe in demons?" Nick asked.

"Believe in them? Are you kidding me? They're nasty sons of bitches. We've fought dozens, maybe hundreds of them. Ganked and exorcized, just as many."

"If I wasn't a Grimm, I'd say you were crazy, but you're not. But crazy or not, you attacked my friend who was just minding his own business because you

thought he was one of these demons. Who's to say what all those others you took for demons might have been Wessen?"

"Trust me, they were demons."

"Yeah, but you made the mistake here, and now, and I'm glad we caught you. I can't let you go if you're going around terrorizing the Wessen community."

"Look! Your Wessen things, this is the first time I've heard of them. But we've been dealing with demons all our lives! They killed our mother! So trust me, we _know _demons."

"I can't take that chance."

"Ugh! What do we have to do to prove it to you?!"

"Y'know, Dean, we could show them—"

"Show us what?" Monroe cut in.

"We could show you a demon." Dean said smugly.

"Say, if we were to let you do that. What does it involve?" Nick said, crossing his arms, a skeptical look on his face.

"Aw, just a little hoodoo in a box, a crossroads, and some spray paint, and you've got yourselves a decent mid-ranking demon. Nothing too impressive." He said nonchalantly.

"Where do you plan to get all that?" Hank asked.

"Easy. It's in our car."

"And I thought the trailer was weird," Hank chuckled, grinning at Nick, who smiled a little back.

"What, you have a trailer? For your…Grim operations or something?" Dean asked.

"What's it got in it?" Sam prodded, interest piqued.

"Books. Lots of old books. And that's all you need to know."

"What, like lore?" Dean scoffed.

"You mean folklore? Actually, yeah."

"Wow, I'd love to see that." Sam's frown changed to a small smile.

"OK, one thing at the time," Monroe interrupted, frowning, his eyes turning red.

"Yeah, y'know what? Monroe's right. Prove to us you aren't just making all this up, to cover for killing Wessen, then we might talk." Nick said.

"OK, deal!" The younger hunter replied eagerly.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks for the reviews, as always. This one's a bit longer than the previous chapters, anyway, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Yeah, so, let's go show you. Where's the nearest crossroads? Preferably where you can bury a box in the middle of it. It's part of the hoodoo." Sam said.

"Yeah, I think I know of one," Nick nodded, "But if you're thinking you're gonna get away, you're mistaken. You're not leaving here without cuffs. Hank—" He nodded to him, and they both

stepped toward the brothers, grabbing the cuffs they carried at their belts.

"You're freaking kidding me," Dean exclaimed as Nick came toward him.

"Nope. It's a precaution. Because until we know you're not lying, you're our responsibility. And we can't have you going free if you're going to be killing Wessen left and right, now can we?" Nick explained.

"Relax, Dean," Sam said, cooperatively leaning forward from the couch to allow Hank access to his arms. "Maybe if we show them they'll believe us—" He paused, wincing as Hank pulled off the duck tape that was around his wrists. "I mean, we don't really want to get in any more trouble than we're in, do we?" Hank motioned for him to bring his arms in front of his body, which he complied with, allowing him to put the handcuffs on his wrists. "Who knows, maybe they can help us eventually with hunting. It sounds kind of like their jobs too."

"Fine." Dean fumed, "But really, will you be careful with my wrist, man? Your friend screwed it up pretty good."

"Not a problem," Nick replied to Dean's request. "I'll cuff your good hand to your belt."

Dean leaned forward, groaning wordlessly in pain as Nick removed the duck tape from his injured hand.

"OK, hard part's over," Nick assured him as he cuffed his good hand to his belt.

"I wouldn't count on that," Dean muttered, making a face.

"Oh really? So what are you going to do? You're hurt, you don't have any weapons, and there's a Fuchsbau and the two of us armed. Seriously, just cooperate, and it will all go smoothly." Nick urged him.

"I'm not planning anything just yet," Dean sniped, "But it never goes well for us."

"That's for sure," Sam scoffed, giving him a knowing look.

"Monsters always come up with some damn reason or other to try to kill us. The entire freaking universe is out to get us," Dean replied.

At his mention of the word 'monster,' Rosalee sighed, and shook her head. "Monsters? You'll never get it, will you?"

"Not likely," Sam replied, making an awkward attempt at being agreeable. "But like we've been saying, you're one of the first that hasn't tried to kill us, so this is still pretty new territory."

"Not for us," Rosalee replied sadly. "Most Grimm…well, they're like you. I'm just glad Nick isn't."

"Nope, not all of us," Nick replied, smiling. "We can cooperate. I just hope for everyone's sake, you guys are telling the truth. If you've been killing innocent Wessen, well, I don't know what we'll do with you." His voice grew darker as he finished,

"Damn cops," Dean muttered as Nick walked away.

"They're just doing their job. I mean, maybe they're onto something. Some of the monsters out there might be good allies, yknow?" Sam responded, his tone hopeful.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't count on it," Dean muttered, his expression grim.

"Alright," Nick said, shaking his head. "So, Monroe, are you going to be OK? I guess we're gong to take them to the crossroads. But don't you need to get your side taken care of?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Monroe replied tiredly from where he'd been sitting, watching the goings on.

"We'll get you to the hospital," Rosalee assured him.

"OK, great. So, we'll call you I guess when we figure out what's up with them." Nick asserted, nodding.

"Let's get them up," Hank said, moving to undo Sam's legs from the coffee table. He peeled the duck tape from his ankles, yanking off his shoe in the process.

"I, uh, might need that if we're planning on going anywhere," Sam said awkwardly.

"Huh, not the first time that's happened," Dean scoffed.

"No, I know, the rabbit's foot. That was so crazy…"

"What?" Hank asked, making a face.

"Nothing," Sam replied quickly. Hank merely shrugged in response, nodding to him when he'd finished. "Get up slowly. And for the love of god, don't try anything. I will shoot you if I have to."

"Understood," Sam said, getting shoe back on and then rising to his feet slowly.

Nick went to work untaping Dean's feet now, while Hank watched the two carefully, hand resting nonchalantly on his holster. He didn't project danger or menace, but his posture clearly said he meant business.

Sam had no intention of testing him on that, either.

Dean groaned as he now stood likewise, stretching his shoulders. "So. Now you're gonna let us show you the wild world of the supernatural?" He quipped.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Nick replied as he made his way to the door. He nodded to Hank, who indicated for Sam and Dean to follow, single file, between the two.

The detective lead them to their car, which Dean produced the keys for from his pocket.

Under Nick and Hank's watchful gaze, he moved to the trunk, and was about to open it when Nick stopped him.

"I think I'll be the one getting whatever it is you need out."

"Fine," Dean groaned, handing over the keys.

Nick unlocked it, raising the lid cautiously.

"What the heck is this?" he asked, eyeing the strange symbols that lined the lid.

"Oh, those are just devil's traps," Dean replied with a tone of superiority.

"OK then. So, what exactly are we looking for?" Nick asked.

"Shoebox size box, should be in the far left…." Dean replied, rolling his eyes.

Nick scrambled around in the trunk for a moment, eyeing the various weapons. "You sure have a lot of firepower," he commented. "And…what is this?" He produced a steel flask with a cross on it.

"Holy water." Sam said.

"What? Why would two rampaging Grimm be carrying around holy water?" Hank pressed, shrugging inquisitively.

"We're not Grimm. We're hunters. And it's damn handy with lower level demons," Dean shot back. "But you're wasting time. Are you actually gonna try to find the box? Because I'd already be in and out and we'd be on our way to the nearest crossroads if you'd left it to us."

"Cool it," Hank admonished, giving Dean a sharp look.

"Hey, I just want you to hurry the hell up and let us to get on our way. What with my brother not wanting us to kick your asses and all." He muttered.

"Is this it?" Nick asked, holding up a box.

"Yeah, that's the one," Sam replied, nodding.

"Great," Nick replied, motioning for the two to follow him toward the police car.

The four looked up momentarily as Rosalee's car pulled out from the driveway, as she left to take Monroe to the hospital.

After waiting for the other two to pull away, Nick and Hank induced the brothers to get in the back of their car, where they were securely locked behind the grating that separated the cab from the back seat where offenders were transported.

Dean skulked as they pulled away from Monroe's house, griping under his breath low enough Sam could barely even hear.

"Really? I mean, why do you want to just sit here and play this out?"

"I think we ought to give them a chance, " Sam replied, his voice equally low. "Besides, you know, the phenomenon we were in the area searching? They might be a good resource. So, yknow, being diplomatic and not handing them their asses right off the bat might be kind of prudent."

"Fine. I still say it's stupid, Sammy," Dean huffed.

"Whatever," Sam returned, amusement rolling off his shoulders.

"Whatever," Dean mocked.

Sam chuckled at this.

"What's so funny?" Hank cut in.

"Oh, nothing," Sam replied quickly.

"So, where are you douches taking us?" Dean asked.

"We're going to a crossroads, like you said. Y'know, on the offchance you weren't making this up on the fly." Nick replied from the driver's seat.

"Yeah, which one, by the way," Hank asked.

"The one near the mill," Nick replied.

"Oh, yeah, that one," Hank mused. "Shouldn't be too far then..."

"And..how far's that, exactly?" Sam pressed.

"Twenty minutes." Hank replied.

"That's just freaking great," Dean remarked, rolling his eyes. "Another twenty that we're stuck in here with these morons..."

...


	7. Chapter 7

OK, so I realize it's been forever and a day since I updated this one. For that I apologize. More stories going, more things going on in life, and well, yknow. Anyhow, if anybody's still hanging around to read it, here it is. And there will be more fairly soon. :)

* * *

The ride was long enough for Dean to practice his silent stare.

Sam merely watched out the window, although after a while the thickness of the silence got to him, and he found himself trying to strike up a conversation with Hank and Nick.

"So, uh, you're detectives. Portland PD, right?" He asked.

"Yeah. Homicide detectives. This whole Grimm thing was pretty new to me once. Freaky, really freaky," Hank replied.

"I can imagine," Sam replied. "Although I wouldn't really know the shock of getting intorduced to the paranormal sort of stuff. I grew up in this sort of world with monsters and demons and—"

He broke off when Nick sighed. "Monsters, at least, per what I've always been told. I don't know that they're all your Wessen like your friends, but there's plenty of them, vampires, rugaru, Leviathan, so much stuff, you wouldn't believe it. There's no way that they're all otherwise normal humans. Not the ones we've met, anyways."

"Maybe you're not just making that up to rationalize it, then maybe, yeah," Nick nodded, "We'll talk after you show us this which—by the way, we're here now."

"Fair enough," Sam assented.

Nick pulled the car over to the side of the road, he and Hank getting out first.

Then hank went to the back door, which he opened slowly, on Sam's side first, saying "Out, nice and slow."

Sam nodded, complying. Dean grumbled as he got out, but made no move to escape, either.

"Alright, so," Nick said, coming to stand in front of them on the ditchbank where they were parked, "We're here. What now?"

"Now," Dean said, "You get out the spraypaint."

"Spraypaint?" Nick asked, his tone skeptical as he held the hoodoo box in front of himself.

"It's already in the box, moron. Keep some there ready just in case." Dean snapped, rolling his eyes.

"Oh. Alright then. No need to get snappish now. What do we do with it?" Hank asked.

"Well, it would be easier for me to do it, really," Sam spoke up, shrugging.

"Do what?"

"Draw a devil's trap," Dean muttered.

"OK, what do they look like?" Nick asked.

"It's a pentagram inside a circle. Make it about four five feet wide or so, and put it in front of where you bury the box."

"Alright easy enough," Nick said, opening the box to pull out the spraypaint. He shook it a few times before spraying the pentagram in the dirt of the road, looking up to the brothers for confirmation.

"Like this?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, "Now do the circle."

Nick nodded as he did so, stepping back to look at his work.

"Wait, they need a picture—" Sam said. "You need to put a picture of you in the box with it, OK? And then bury it."

Nick looked at Hank, and then shrugged, "Well, pictures—did we come out here for nothing, or—"

"Hey, does it matter if it has anything else on it? Coz we have photo ID," Hank asked.

"Nah, just put it in." Dean said, nodding as Nick got out his wallet to pull out his license, which he put in the box.

"Yeah, so now you bury the box a little bit back of there, OK?" Dean said. "But not farther than a foot or two. Just don't disturb the devil's trap and you should be OK. But close enough the demons appears in it when they come. That's the whole point, they have to be in it so they are trapped."

"OK," Nick nodded, grumbling absently as he bent over to make a hole in the graveled ground with his hands to put the box in. A few minutes later he had the box buried, asking, "Well, now what?"

"Any minute now," Sam answered, "Although…maybe we should get out of view—"

"How's this do?" Hank asked as he stepped beside Nick, motioning for the brothers to step behind them. They did so quickly, ducking behind the two.

Moments later, an attractive dark-haired woman in a low-cut snakeskin print dress appeared in the center of the crossroads.

"Hello, handsome, did you summon me?" she said sultrily, closing her eyes slowly then opening them to reveal their blood red glow.

"No," Nick replied, him and Hank stepping apart to reveal the two brothers who stood behind them.

"Ugh, you Winchesters!" The demon snapped.

Nick made a quiet "Oh," giving Hank a look.

The demon tried to step forwards, but stopped abruptly, glaring at the ground, which was spraypainted with what she now saw was a pentagram.

"Of course you made a trap," the demon growled, her expression smoldering with rage.

"Yep," Dean said. "Surprise, ya red-eyed bitch. It's us."

"No matter what, don't make any deals," Sam cautioned Nick and Hank, who murmured agreement quietly, all the while staring at the demon.

"What, no deals to make? But wouldn't one of you two other handsome gentlemen like something, hmm? Love? Fame, power? Just name it-"

"Shut up!" Dean shouted, nodding to Sam to begin.

"Regna terrae, cantate deo, psallite domino. Qui fertur super caelum caeli ad orientem, ecce dabit vocem suam, vocem virtutis…" He recited the exorcism flawlessly, Nick and Hank watching, dumbfounded, as the she-demon who stood in the center of the pentagram trap twitched, struggling to keep her mouth shut as an unseen force fought against her.

She yelped, as if in pain, her jaw ripping open, a look of terror in her eyes, which now flashed red.

"Whoah," Hank murmured, taking a startled step back as black smoke beginning to pour out her mouth.

She shrieked now as Sam finished the exorcism, smoke pouring out of her mouth in torrents, which whirled viciously into the sky before disappearing.

The woman collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Sam ran to her side, rolling her over from where she'd fallen with some difficulty despite the cuffs, so that she wasn't lying face-down.

She lay quietly for a moment on her side as he waited kneeling over her, before groaning, opening her eyes, which were now a normal, green-gray. "Oh god, what's happening to me?" she murmured.

"Hey, it's OK. You were, uh, in some trouble, but you're safe now." Sam assured her.

"Who are you? Are you anything to do with—oh, god—" she broke off, shaking her head as she tried to sit up. "That—that evil—oh my god. It was inside me—I—"

"Yeah. But it's gone now. We sent it back to Hell. And uh, we can show you a trick that can keep it from ever happening again." Dean stepped forward, smiling.

"But who are you? How did you know to stop it….?" Her words were feeble.

"We're hunters. We've dealt with this before," Sam explained cautiously.

"But…what exactly was it?"

"That," Dean proclaimed, looking pointedly at Nick and Hank, who were just standing by now, watching. "Was a demon."


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry for the delay. But it's here. So, as always, enjoy!

* * *

"Alright," Nick cut in. "I've seen enough. Look, we'll give you a ride home, we're with the Portland Police Department—"

"Portland?" The woman gasped as she sat up slowly, "But…I'm from Los Angeles…" her expression growing more tired now than fearful.

"So, I guess we''ll be arranging to get you home. Anyways, we'll do whatever we can to help." Hank nodded.

"Oh god, thank you," she said, faltering as she struggled to her feet, taking Sam's elbow in the process. "You have no idea how horrible that was—"

"Actually, I do," Sam nodded. "Believe it or not, I've been possessed before. Anyways, you're OK, which is what counts. They'll get you home. Although, like Dean mentioned, we know a trick that will prevent this from happening again." Sam reached awkwardly up to his chest as he spoke with both hands, pulling down the collar of his shirt. In the glare of the headlights, the outline of the pentagram tattoo was just visible.

"What's that?" She asked, her brow knitting itself into a confused line.

"That's an anti-possession symbol." Dean explained. "We'll give you a copy if you want. Point is, as long as it's on you, a demon can't take over. Which is what that 'evil' you were feeling was. That's a demon."

"Oh, god," She muttered. "And…you're sure this is for real? Because…I barely believe it myself—" She wavered slightly, shaking her head.

"Yeah, I know," Nick offered her an arm as she appeared to grow unsteady on her feet. "But unfortunately it's all very real. We'll get you a way home, alright? Just come with us…"

With that, Nick began to move towards the car, the woman in tow. Hank motioned for the brothers to follow, saying, "Well, let's go."

They piled in, Sam and Dean in the back with the woman, Nick and Hank in the front, with Hank at the wheel.

As they rode, the woman began to chat.

"Sorry, I don't think I got your names. I'm Ashley. Who are you again?" She asked.

"Dean."

"And I'm Sam," the brothers supplied.

"I don't even want to think of what all would have happened if you hadn't been here. I barely remember the past few days. Just…snatches, god, awful things—" Ashley shuddered, voice growing thin with emotion.

"You don't have to explain it to us if you don't want to," Sam assured her. "We've dealt with this sort of thing our whole lives. I'm just glad you made it out of that alright."

"Yeah, you're pretty damn lucky, far as that goes," Dean muttered.

"Lucky?" Nick scoffed from the front.

"Yeah, believe it or not, Barney Fife, demons can do some nasty shit to people," Dean cracked.

"If you say so." Nick replied, shaking his head. "It just seems pretty brutal to start with."

"Yeah, well, that's demons for ya," Dean said.

"Thanks again," she said. "Although…I have to say, I was wondering, why are you in handcuffs?"

"Long story," Sam laughed.

"Yeah, although if you want to hear it," Dean offered, tone sarcastic, "It's because cops are complete idiots when it comes to dealing with demons and monsters and crap. We had to show them."

This elicited an awkward laugh from Ashley. "Well, I'm very glad you did."

"Thanks, we're right up here," Hank snarked.

"And we're not idiots. We gave you a chance to explain, didn't we?" Nick added.

"Yeah, sure," Dean muttered. "Although no thanks to you, she'd still be running around possessed by one of those black-eyed sons of bitches."

"No, no, that's alright," she murmured, her voice growing tired. "I just want to go home now…"

"That's completely understandable," Hank replied.

"In fact," Nick said, "We can take you to the airport if you want—"

"No, really, you don't have to do all that. Just a cab would be great-"

"Nonsense," Nick cut in. "At least let us give you enough money for a flight."

"Oh, thank you," she gushed, leaning tiredly on Sam's shoulder as they drove. "That would be amazing…"

"No problem, I'll call now," Nick replied.

Ashley grew quiet now, slumping in the seat beside Sam.

He didn't even realize I really until her head lolled to the side on his shoulder, when it became apparent she was asleep.

"Guess that took a lot out of her," he mused.

"Yeah, guess so," Dean agreed, shrugging. "I know I can't wait to get out of this freaking car…"

….

After a brief stop at an ATM, they finally parked in front of Monroe's house, Nick declaring loudly, "Well, we're here!"

This seemed to wake Ashley, who groaned, stretching as she fumbled to open the door.

"Looks like he cab's here," Hank observed as they got out.

"Yep," Nick replied. "And here's $500 for your ticket. Please, feel free to call us if you need anything." He pressed the cash into her hand.

"Wh—what about the thing," she muttered, "he thing that keeps the demons out—"

"Oh, yeah," Hank murmured. "You'll have to ask them—"

"The anti-possession symbol," Sam supplied from where he still sat in he back of the car. "If you have any paper, I can draw one real quick—"

Nick scuffled in the glovebox, supplying a notepad and pen.

Taking it, Sam deftly sketched one. Ripping it out, he handed it to Ashley.

"Thanks," she murmured, giving Sam a hug, which he awkwardly stood by for, unable to return it because of the handcuffs.

"Welcome," he nodded.

"Yeah, now go get back to your life," Dean said. "You'll be fine."

She nodded, mumbling her thanks again as she hugged Nick and Hank each before disappearing into the cab which waited curbside.

As it pulled away, Nick turned to the brothers. "Let's go inside and see how Monroe's doing. Rosalee texted me. They're back from the ER."

"Ugh, really man?!" Dean snarked, rolling his eyes as Hank interrupted him.

"Yeah, believe it or not, you still were breaking and entering, and committed assault with a deadly weapon. So yeah, we're gonna take our time on this." Hank said, his tone no-nonsense, his hand resting not-so-subtlely on his gun. "And I mean business, so get out, and same as before, no stunts, no funny stuff."

"Fine!" Dean snapped as they made their way to the porch, where Nick rang the doorbell.

Rosalee opened the door, ushering them inside.

"So, what exactly happened?" She asked as she motioned for them to sit down in the livingroom.

"Well, we saw a demon," Hank replied.

"A real live demon?"

"Yeah," Nick replied.

Sam and Dean laughed at once at her incredulous expression as they took seats on the couch.

"So, uh, how's Monroe?" Nick asked, tone shifting to an uneasy seriousness.

"Thankfully he's going to be OK. The stab wound missed any important vessels or organs. He needed some stitches, and he's on antibiotics and painkillers, but he didn't need surgery, after all." Rosalee reported. "In fact, I should go make sure he's situated. He's in bed…" She trailed off, making her way up the stairs.

Nick watched after her for a moment before moving to stand in front of the Winchesters, giving Hank a look where he stood beside him.

"While we're here, we've got something to discuss." Nick declared.

"Yeah? So, let's hear it," Sam said.

"We know who you are," Hank nodded.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, shrugging in a way that suggested nonchalance.

Nick held up his phone, an old BOLO notice showing on the screen.

"Oh, shit," Dean grunted, biting his lip.

"Yeah. I ran it when the demon mentioned your last name. I knew your names were familiar, but couldn't put my finger on it." Nick explained.

"Look, you've got this all wrong," Sam began.

"Actually, I don't think we do," Hank cut in. "You are clearly the guys in the photo, and standing warrants are out for _all kinds of things_."

"Great, we all know where this is going," Dean muttered.

"Really? Because I think we're going downtown," Nick quipped.

"Can't we get a break for once?! How you give us the chance to explain?"

"As much as you want," Nick rejoined. "But you're coming with us."

"But you know we're not crazy, you saw the demon," Sam pleaded.

"One demon doesn't explain mass murder," Hank answered.

"No, you morons! Just listen for a split second. We are _hunters_! We deal with all kinds of crazy shit. The shooter was a shapeshifter who stole my face, the explosions were Lilith, that demon bitch—" Dean burst out.

"What about the dozens of hold-ups and shootings across the midwest?" Hank's voice was coldly calculated as he shot down Dean's protests.

"They were Leviathan!" Dean sputtered, rolling his eyes.

"What? So that's some other sort of creature that can look exactly like you, I guess?" Nick replied smugly.

"Yes! They can change the way they look, they did it to drive us into hiding, while we were hunting them—they would have killed off most of the population if we didn't stop them." Sam explained,

"Can you prove any of this?" Hank pressed.

"Look, we are NOT showing you Leviathan. For one, it isn't possible, they're all back in Purgatory or dead," Dean snapped, "And if they did get out again, it would be friggin World War III, OK? And we are _not _doing that again." Dean spat the words.

"What do you mean, 'again?' OK, y'know what? Just save it. You're coming to the station with us. We'll discuss this there, with he Captain." Nick said.

"No, we can't. We have other things to deal with. I mean, it would be nice if you could just—" Dean tried again, gritting his teeth as he bit back the snarks he wanted to hurl at the cops.

"Dean, you think maybe we could use some outside intervention," Sam mumbled.

"What kind of intervention are you talking about? If you really are Grimm, you don't kill non-Wessen people, now do you?" Nick asked.

"Hey, Castiel, if you've got your ears on, we need some help down here," Dean muttered.

"Who the hell are you talking to—" Hank began, but stopped, as a brilliant light flashed and the sound of wings buffeted the air.

Hank and Nick drew their guns, as a man in a trench coat appeared between them.

Before either could react further, the man pressed his hands to their heads, and they dropped to the floor.

"Cas," Dean said, smiling at the familiar face as he approached the angel.

"Hello, Dean. What do you need?"

"Oh my god, I heard the noise, and—" Rosalee came running down the stairs, shifting into full Wogue as she saw the strange man standing in the middle of her living room with the hunters, on either side, her friends lying on the floor.

"You—" Cas exclaimed as she leapt towards him, raising his hand in time to grab her forehead, where a glow appeared—

"Wait!" Dean shouted.


	9. Chapter 9

What?" He lifted his hand from her, head, Rosalee falling flaccid in his arms.

"Don't hurt her," Sam said.

"Why? She's a monster—"

"She hasn't done squat. You scared her, is what." Dean spat angrily.

"I don't—" Castiel protested, his tone and gaze searching as he looked confusedly back at Dean.

"Just—just put her down!" he commanded, shaking his head angrily

"Alright," the angel assented as he lowered her to lean against the wall on the bottom step.

"Why did you call me, if you didn't need help?" He asked, coming to stand in front of the brothers.

"We do need help," Sam explained, "But not with her. She's not hurting anything. See, there's been signs of Reaper activity in the area."

"But why are you in handcuffs?" Cas pressed, his expression quizzical as he continued staring.

"Yeah, that," Dean muttered. "We had a, uh, bit of a misunderstanding."

"I see." Cas replied. "What would you like me to do?"

"First, why don't you get us uncuffed?" Dean rolled his eyes, his tone irritable for having to make the suggestion.

Castiel grabbed the handcuff keys and soon had both brothers unlocked.

"OK, now, wake them back up." Dean groaned, stretching his good arm, holding his injured hand close to his chest.

"Alright." Cas obliged as he touched both the detectives on the forehead, who opened their eyes, looking around.

"Wha—" Hank and Nick groaned, dazed.

"Hey, this is Cas. He's—" Dean began, but stopped, making a face of annoyance as Castiel revealed himself, the shadow forms of his wings stretching across the room.

"Holy…crap…" Hank said, slowly sitting up.

"Is that what I think it is?" Nick asked, shielding his eyes.

"Yep, he's an angel." Dean supplied. " And you can vouch for the whole Leviathan thing too, _can't you Cas_?"

"Yes. Regrettably, I can," Cas admitted, making a face which might have been his approximation of embarrassment. "I was the one who unleashed them on Earth from Purgatory. I didn't understand then, I couldn't absorb all the souls, and—"

"I think Dean means more to the point of how we're not homicidal maniacs," Sam interrupted, shaking his head.

"Yes, the Leviathan made things very difficult for Sam and Dean while they were trying to fight Dick Roman, the head of the Leviathan. They took on their appearance and committed many crimes in their name. All of it was my fault." His voice grew grim, a deeper frown than usual crossing his face.

"Thanks Cas. So, guys. You heard it from an _angel_. Now do you believe us?" Dean quipped.

"Really though, you're an angel?" Nick asked, his tone still somehow incredulous.

"Yes. This form is merely my vessel. My true form can be overwhelming for humans." Castiel shrugged.

"Ookay," Hank said, his eyes getting big. "I don't know about you, but this is getting a little bit much for me, Nick. I mean, I get the Grimm thing. But…_this _is new."

"Hey, it's new to me. I've never heard of this before. Ever." Nick nodded

"In fairness, the Grimm thing's new to us," Sam said, laughing.

"Yeah, and the whole…new forms of monsters. I mean, seriously, do they ever run out of new kinds of monsters? It's like the universe is pissed at us!" Dean snarked.

"Wessen. Not monsters." Nick corrected.

"Wessen, monsters, whatever," Dean rolled his eyes as he spoke. "They're usually too busy trying to kill us to make much—"

"Hey, wait, what happened to Rosalee?!" Hank cut Dean off, his eyes darting over to where she lay on the stairs.

"Oh, yeah, that. See, Cas has angel powers and can knock somebody out cold just by…yeah, like that." He explained as Castiel went over to Rosalee, rousing her with a hand to her forehead.

"Ugh, what happened?" She asked as she sat up.

"Sorry about that," Sam said.

"Yeah, you went kinda overboard on the whole knockout trip, didn't ya?" Dean prodded.

"What? I only did what you asked." Cas protested.

"Cas, apologize to the lady why don't ya? You were this close to going nuclear on her." Dean scolded, shaking his head.

" I am sorry to have unnecessarily rendered you unconscious via my heavenly powers." Castiel said awkwardly.

"Good enough." Dean grunted. "Good job, Cas."

" Seriously though. Maybe next time come in a little less all guns blazing," Sam said.

"Sorry, but who are you?" Rosalee asked, eyeing Cas suspiciously.

"I am an Angel of the Lord," Castiel replied, revealing his wings.

"Oh, my god..." Rosalee murmured, her eyes growing large.

"What is he, anyways? Your guardian angel?" Hank chuckled.

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Castiel replied, ignoring or perhaps not having sensed at all Hank's levity. "I raised him from Perdition and we've been fighting the same wars ever since. Except when I absorbed all the souls, and-"

"Not relevant, Cas, and besides you already mentioned that," Dean shook his head irritably, grimacing as he shifted positions, jostling his bad hand.

"You're hurt," Castiel observed shrewdly. "Let me help." He came over to Dean quickly, eyeing his hand, which had by now turned a mottled purple from bruising.

"Fine," Dean groaned as Castiel carefully lifted his hand, his eyes glowing blue-white with power for a moment as he touched his fingertips to the injured areas about the wrist.

He stepped back now, leaving Dean to try out his hand which he held up in front of himself, making a fist.

Hank and Nick, and Rosalee stared, flabbergast.

"That's incredible," Rosalee said, speaking up first, stepping forwards to look closer.

"Hey, how about not getting too close?" Dean rebuffed, shoving his newly-healed hand in his pocket.

"Sorry. I just...I mean I've seen a lot, we've seen magic, but I've never seen anything like this." Rosalee replied, her tone apologetic as she stepped back a bit.


End file.
